


Dark Tidings

by Klauinax



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Baltimore Crabs (Blaseball Team)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 14:21:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30107313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klauinax/pseuds/Klauinax
Summary: The days do not get easieror: Kennedy is becoming tired
Kudos: 3





	Dark Tidings

Kennedy Loser stands at the plate with his bat in hand. The Black Hole hangs above the stadium like a flower, promising death and destruction and sweet oblivion. He's not sure where he is, something's off in his mind. But he has a bat in hand. A pitch flies at him, and he flinches again.

Again. Again he flinches. Every single time. No matter how often he stands on the plate the ball seems so large, like it was threatening to crush him. Kennedy shakes his head hard enough to feel his brain rattle around. When he opens his eyes, the next ball comes at him. He's got only a split second to try and read it, and his answer is confusion.

The ball hits the lip of his helmet and clouds his vision in pure white for a moment. He can hear a ringing sound, feel the beat of his heart hard in his ears as his body goes into overdrive. Dazed, he steps back a half-step and raises his hand to his head. Fresh, slick blood on his glove as the headwound starts to bleed black. Was that the right color? He didn't know what was happening. Did he just get beaned? Panic flushes his system for a moment, remembering Jaylen's madness.

Decades of service, to be killed like this.

He feels something in his gut, the most profound anger. It feeds on the fear, burning him out and setting his teeth on edge as he growls.

Kennedy's hand finds his helmet, and rips it off as he turns and storms forwards. Above him, the Black Hole devours everything, and in the absence it leaves he can hear a voice screaming from the heavens. Blaseball does not deserve happiness. The fans do not deserve happiness. No one did anymore. Nothing was good left in the world. His bat still in hand, Kennedy lashes out at the pitcher. Other bodies mob him, and the game devolves into it's true core. Blood soaks the center of the diamond beneath them, and slowly the Black Hole claims everything.

Kennedy Loser wakes in his bed, soaked with sweat. His teeth hurt from clenching too hard, and his heart was pounding in his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut, and tries to hear the voice of the Mother. She responds to him, kind and calming words.

They are muffled, and getting harder to hear.


End file.
